The Ground Beneath You
by A Twist in the Story
Summary: Emily thought she had gotten used to losing people she loved. She could not have been more wrong. Character Death


**I started writing this before the season finale and I decided to finish it even though it's nowhere near the current storyline now. I may write a tag to Hit/Run but I lost the inspiration after I started it, so we'll see... **

**I just have to mention that the finale killed me. It was too perfectly heartbreaking. **

They say that, in the moments before death, life flashes before your eyes. The doctors will say that you went quickly, painlessly, hoping to give your family and friends some comfort. But these are lies. The moments before death are agonizing, slow, your body trying to decide whether to keep fighting or give up; it's like being stuck in a limbo.

And for those who aren't dying themselves, those watching helplessly as their loved on dies in front of them, the clock ticks by at a pace that seems impossibly slow. One would think that this would be a blessing, spending more time with that person breathing their last breaths. No, wrong again. Because worse than knowing that the person you love is dying, is watching them suffer. And knowing that their mind has long since stopped fighting while the body grasps to any remaining strands of life.

And perhaps worse than having been in either situation, it occurred to the agent, was having been in both. And lived; not to tell of it, but simply to live with it.

_Rain pounded on the windshield as the night wore on in the New England countryside. They were, very literally, in the middle of nowhere. No lights gleaming, the clamor of human life would be found for many miles. And the rain only contributed to the feeling of isolation; to say it was coming down in sheets would be a gross understatement. Emily slowly rose from her slumber in the passenger seat, trying to stifle a yawn._

"_Derek, come on, let me drive," she pleaded. His eyelids were heavy, and they both knew it. _

"_I'm fine," he replied weakly, aware that this wasn't a fight he would win._

"_Pull over." _

_Derek slowed the car, coming to a stop on the edge of the shoulder. They shared a glance, as if to count to three like children trying to avoid getting pelted with raindrops. The pair opened the doors of the SUV just enough for their bodies to slide trough, running through the sheets of water to the other side. Emily let out a breath, shaking her jacket off, which she had put over her head._

"_Prentiss, trying to impress someone?" Derek smiled, and Emily would've sworn she saw his eyebrows wiggle up and down._

"_You wish," Emily replied, sarcasm dripping from her voice as she put the key in the ignition, turning the engine over. She pulled back onto the road, continuing their trek across Massachusetts. _

"_God, didn't we pull the lucky straws," she mumbled to herself, thinking of how the rest of their team was safely inside hotel rooms, having spent the day in Connecticut. Those killers crossing state lines, what an inconvenience. _

"_Well I'd say so," Morgan said, startling Emily who had thought her comment was inaudible. She looked over at him as he continued, "What, you're not enjoying all this time we're spending together?" he mocked sadness._

_Emily just shook her head in disbelief. "Derek Morgan, do you ever turn off the charm?"_

"_Not with you, Em," he winked flirtatiously. Then his face turned serious. _

"_Not that you'll ever fall for it," Derek said, and Emily could almost detect a different emotion- one far from the joking manner he'd had moments ago. She tried to shake the thought, but couldn't help but look over at her partner, trying to decipher his words. Emily's eyes were trained on his face, which was turned back towards the road ahead of them. She almost missed it. Almost. _

"_Derek!" _

Her eyes bore into the stone, willing it to morph into something else, or disappear altogether. That was the definition of insanity, wasn't it? Doing the same thing over and over, expecting a different result. Maybe that was what this was becoming- insanity. Emily choked back a sob, as she so often did nowadays. There was no right answer. If she didn't come, she was lost; if she did, the knife in her heart was twisted further, wedging itself so far in she feared it would never be removed. But she'd prefer that. If the pain was gone, it would be like forgetting. She would never forget; therefore, the pain stayed. Emily squeezed her eyes shut, trying to retain tears. She turned away for a moment, glancing at the cell phone in her pocket. It wouldn't ring, and she knew it. They all knew where she was now; she had never told, but they knew. The action was merely a distraction, a few seconds away from the pain that suffocated her life. Mere seconds, if that. She placed a red rose on the soil, still bare, waiting for life to inhabit it.

"I love you."

A whisper, a rose, nothing would ever be enough. The price of a life was much, much higher. And as much as she tried to deny it, Emily knew that that price was too steep to ever be reached.

_His eyes found hers moments before the world was turned upside down. _

_All around them, glass flew, shattering as they turned over, once, twice. First there was glass, then there was blood. So much blood. Emily could feel the iron taste of her own in her mouth, flowing from a wound in her forehead. Straining her neck, she saw more glass, more blood, air bags. Derek. Where was Derek. Emily quickly found that the gash in her head was her only apparent injury. But she had been on the other side. She shook that thought away quickly; this wasn't the time. Hands shaking, she clicked open the seat belt, carefully maneuvering out of the car and shaking the shards of glass off of her pantsuit. Yes, there was pain, but she didn't feel it. Emily's eyes darted across the scene, landing on a still figure on the ground. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words crossed her lips. They caught in her throat, her tongue feeling as if it were drenched in sawdust. Emily felt as though she was trapped in one of those awful romance movies, the ones she saw with Penelope and JJ but secretly laughed at. The actress's slow motion, desperate attempts to reach her dying friend while discovering the key to life. This is the part of the movie where Penelope would be bawling her eyes out and Emily and JJ would share a scoff. Though Emily found that living it was much different than sitting comfortably in a dark room, watching it happen on the screen. There were no smirks, there was no laughter, only a blinding pain. _

_She reached Derek's side, sitting on her knees beside him. Emily bit down on her bottom lip and ran her tongue along it, resorting to a nervous habit to stop the flood of emotion threatening to escape her. A single tear ran down her cheek, and she made no attempt to whisk it away. Emily focused on Derek's eyes, trying not to let her eyes wander to the pool of blood beneath him. She tried not to see the gashes in his abdomen, and didn't attempt to asses his other injuries. She knew. _

"_Derek, Derek, you listen to me. You are not leaving me. Not today, not ever. You hear me?"_

_Derek is gone. _Emily had heard somewhere that acceptance began when you could say it out loud. But she was terrified of what might happen if she heard her own voice say those words; she could barely admit them inside her own head.

As much as she hated to acknowledge it, the guilt was building inside her, nearly equaling the grief. Guilt was eating away at her and "If only" was like a toxic substance that she continued to use even though she knew of it's dangers. If only she had not insisted on driving, if only she hadn't been distracted by him, the list was never-ending.

Emily vaguely remembered something she said to a suspect a few years back: _"The one thing you can trust is the ground beneath you until one day it all just shifts." _ Derek had been her ground, the one factor in her life that was always there, even when she put him through hell. He had never truly left her. And now he was gone. Not like she had been- really gone.

Yes, grief was the overhanging cloud, always present, but guilt was the knife finding it's place in her stomach every time she dared think about the man that died in her arms.

"_Emily," he managed to whisper. She knew that tone. _

"_No, no, you are not dying," Emily stressed, aware that he knew there was nothing she could do. She was clinging to the possibility of a miracle, praying to a God that she wasn't sure she believed in and had probably damned her long ago. Her, maybe, but not Derek._

"_Please," Emily breathed, unsure who the plea was directed at. She felt pressure on her palm for the first time, and looked down to find him squeezing her hand._

_Derek said her name again, "Emily." But this time, there wasn't any sign of hopelessness in his voice. This time, it sounded like a promise, like he wasn't ready to give up. No, that wasn't it. Emily hoped that her years of behavioral analysis wouldn't choose this moment to fail her. She kissed him, softly, slowly._

_Her instincts hadn't failed. Derek reciprocated, using an energy his failing body hadn't known it contained. _

"_I guess I fell for it, huh?" Emily smiled, pulling back for a moment. Derek's eyes showed a laughter that his body couldn't produce, not caring that they lay in the middle of a highway or that the taste of blood sat uncomfortably in their mouths. Emily lay her head on his chest, ignoring the fact that his blood now covered her. They didn't need words; they never had. _

_She could hear Derek's steadily pounding heart begin to slow, his breathing become laborious. He spoke so softly, Emily wasn't sure he'd said anything at all. But she'd like to think that he did._

"_I love you."_

_She felt him leave. _

She walked into the small shop, hearing the familiar jingle of bells. The old man behind the counter gave her a sad smile, the same one he'd given her the first day she'd met him and every day since. Ever since she came in asking for the same thing she did now. A single red rose. The smile slowly faded as he handed her the familiar flower and she reached for her wallet. He gently laid a hand on her wrist.

"I got it today, miss." She started to protest, before he gave her a sad glance, the kind she was used to getting by now but would never be comfortable with. He knew what today was.

"It gets better, I promise. It just takes time." The man glanced at a photo of who she can only assume was his wife. She attempts to return his smile, but it doesn't come. Maybe someday, but not today.

She thinks of the old man while continuing on the route that has become all to familiar. It seems that people have a lot of advice, little bits of wisdom they'd like to share with the world. Everyone thinks they have it figured out, that they have the key to a happy, successful life. When you begin a statement with the words, "They say," who are you referring to? Merely a man, a man with an idea. A thought that he hopes will inspire, provoke, or whatever his intentions may be.

One of these people said that there is one event in everyone's life that wakes them up. One event that changes them, changes their outlook on life. Maybe it inspires them to chase a dream, or to make a fantasy reality. Or maybe it thrusts them outside of their cozy little bubble where everything bad happens to other people, never to them. Maybe that one event is like cold water interrupting their dreams and makes them realize that life isn't perfect, and pain is inevitable. Pain different, more piercing, than any pain you have felt before. And maybe that one event destroys you.

That man was doing something right.


End file.
